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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694805">Sleep Among the Dead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard'>LilyOrchard</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT'>MikailaT</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Happy Ending, Hugs, Light Angst, Violence, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, compassion - Freeform, touch-starved elves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Though she was called to aid in the invasion of Gilneas, the battle itself couldn't be further from the Champion's mind. The Forsaken are extremely easy to talk to, and she quickly develops a strange kinship with them. However, to one particularly paranoid elf, the Champion's dedication and compassion seems just too good to be true.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No Honorable Way to Fight a War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Year 28 - During the Invasion of Gilneas</strong>
</p><p>The invasion of Gilneas had taken something of a wrong turn. The Gilneans seemed to be able to control their Worgen curse and had taken advantage of the increased strength and ferocity of their beastly forms to push the Forsaken back considerably. The previously secure city had become highly contested and a death-sentence for the Undead. Many of them simply didn’t have the strength in their rotting bodies to hold back the worgen.</p><p>It had fallen to Sylvanas, her Dark Rangers, Nathanos and Anevay to do most of the fighting against these rabid beasts. Their thirst for vengeance was easily manipulated to funnel them into a small area where their vast numbers were undermined and the Dark Rangers could pick them off with impunity while Anevay held the line on her own.</p><p>Those who bore witness to the battle were made aware of a considerable duality. The Dark Rangers, led by Windrunner’s example, favored accuracy above all else. Arrows were not spent with reckless abandon. Strength was not exerted needlessly. Even speed was not the key to their capability for combat, though each archer on the field had plenty of it to spare. No, it was all about control. Control of their own bodies. Control of the battlefield. Control over their enemies even, with how easily they lined the Worgen up for extermination. With bodies that knew fatigue even less than they knew pain, all of these could be achieved with ease. They were the perfect hunters. </p><p>Anevay, on the other hand, was fury made manifest. The worgen that rushed her like a wave crashed against her fruitlessly and were driven back. The perfect rage that Anevay unleashed upon the Scourge and their Lich King not even a year prior was now reducing these frenzied wolves into chunks. The anger and exhilaration in the Gilneans eyes swiftly gave way to fear when tested against Anevay’s unrelenting bloodlust. Whatever ego centric, alpha obsessed philosophy they indulged in, it was clear that this elf carried more of it than any of them ever could.</p><p>The resistance had quickly turned from a contest to a slaughter.</p><p>“Fight on, my warriors!” Sylvanas called out in the tongue of her former homeland. “Victory draws near.”</p><p>“My Queen!” Called out one Ranger, Cyndia, whose eyes turned to the horizon. At the very edge of her sight she could make out artillery being loaded. “I think they’ve caught wise to our strategy.”</p><p>Sylvanas followed Cyndia’s sight and saw the ballistae being loaded. She growled and gestured for her to withdraw. “Ballistae! Fall back! Rangers, to the cliffside!” she called out before turning her attention to Anevay down below. “Darkflare! Pull back!”</p><p>Anevay’s ear twitched at the call to retreat and turned her eyes to the distance where the ballistae were being loaded. Immediately heeding Sylvanas’ word, she ran back to follow the rangers up to the cliffside, far out of range of the siege weapons. As she ran, she saw a severed Forsaken arm in her path and scooped it up before she joined the others.</p><p>“Anyone lose an arm?” She asked as she entered the camp, holding up the severed limb.</p><p>A dreadguard raised his remaining hand and slowly made his way up to Anevay. “A thousand thanks, Lady Darkflare,” the Forsaken man grumbled, the notable tears in his throat making speech a touch difficult to decipher. “Now I don’t have to be on the waiting list for a new one.”</p><p>“Just Anevay is fine,” Anevay smiled, patting the man on the shoulder as she rejoined Sylvanas and Nathanos at the main tent. “The Worgen are going to be digging through bodies for a week. It’ll take them a while to fortify and continue pushing. Scrambling for us without getting settled will only lead to them getting killed faster and they know it.”</p><p>Sylvanas nodded propping her chin against a forefinger and thumb. “The recent development with their curse still troubles me,” she said. “Even disregarding the physical advantages it provides them, Worgen bodies cannot be raised by my Val’kyr. Perfectly usable corpses to replenish our forces now lie useless on the battlefield.”</p><p>“Then let’s just Blight the lot of them and be done with it,” Anevay shrugged. “If they’re useless, might as well throw everything at them and stop holding back.”</p><p>“Our Warchief has explicitly forbidden the use of the Blight,” Nathanos said with a weary sigh. “Apparently it’s ‘dishonorable’ to dispose of one’s enemies efficiently.” </p><p>Sylvanas pursed her lips in contemplation. “Far be it from we to go against the words of our benevolent leader,” she said dryly before a wicked grin began to form. “But Warchief Garrosh is an immeasurably busy man. So long as we insure our foothold on Southern Lordaeron, I see no reason why we need to further trouble him with the specifics.”</p><p>“I was about to say, since when did anyone kowtow to Garrosh?” Anevay scoffed. “Warchief or no Warchief, he’s still an impotent excuse of an orc whose only noteworthy accomplishment was actually mine.”</p><p>Sylvanas chuckled. Such a sound would have sent the most malevolent of chills up the spines of any living soul. Anevay, however, couldn’t help but be taken by its melodious timbre. “You always know how to bring a smile to my face, Champion,” she said silkily. “Very well. Send word to the Apothecaries to prepare the Blight. Nathanos, ensure our siege engines are configured accordingly. Handlining this concoction cannot be done as recklessly as typical demolisher ammunition.”</p><p>“At once, my Queen,” Nathanos said with a dutiful bow before rushing to fulfill his task.</p><p>“And what about me, Dark Lady?” Anevay asked as she watched Nathanos leave. “Shall I return to the front and keep skewering Worgen until I pass out?” She smiled at Sylvanas, feeling more energized in this campaign than she had in Northrend.</p><p>“You don’t seem to be hurting for energy,” Sylvanas noted, her eyes searching Anevay up and down as the warrior practically bounced with unused strength. “Very well. Take a contingent of Dreadguard and secure our front line. No recklessness. We have to fight smarter. Not harder.”</p><p>Anevay nodded in agreement. “Understood. I promise no casualties, Dark Lady,” she said as she turned around to gather a dozen Dreadguard. Thirteen fighters? No casualties? That was manageable, she thought as she helped one Dreadguard suit up.</p><p>Sylvanas kept her attention fixed on Anevay as she assisted the rest of her infantry with preparations. Her mind wandered to their many battles in Northrend. From guarding Vengeance Landing from Alliance incursion to driving back the San’layn, retaking the Undercity from Varimathras, surviving the Halls of Reflection and even vanquishing the Lich King in the heart of his own power. Truly, the blood elf was a force to be reckoned with. </p><p>And it seemed as though this woman, this immeasurably powerful warrior was entirely in the Banshee Queen’s pocket. Such a prospect should please Sylvanas, and it did. However, she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of wariness cut through the assuring notion. Just as the betrayal at the Wrathgate was still fresh in the mind of Horde and Alliance alike, so too was Varimathras’ betrayal still fresh in her mind. After years of dutiful service to Sylvanas, she made the mistake of letting her guard down around him. A mistake that very nearly cost her life and her kingdom. It reminded her of a very painful lesson to never take anything for granted and to never underestimate the cunning of those around you. Or their capacity for subterfuge. </p><p>Anevay’s skills and dedication have served Sylvanas very well so far. What remained to be seen, however, was whether it was too good to be true.</p>
<hr/><p>“I swear, if I have to wipe any more worgen drool off my armor, I’m going to bust a blood vessel,” Anevay grumbled as she sheathed her warblade and turned to the twelve Dreadguard she’d brought with her. True to her word, there had been no casualties. However, one Forsaken woman had been injured, and her femur had cracked almost completely through.</p><p>Anevay dropped down to her knees beside the woman and inspected her leg. “Hmm… that’s not going to support your weight without support of its own,” she said softly. “You’re going to need a splint at the very least if you’re going to be able to walk.”</p><p>“Well, better than needing to get a whole other leg, I suppose,” the dreadguard said with a shrug before easing herself onto a nearby rock. “Calvin had to get one last week and he still walks funny.” </p><p>“You’d be amazed how half an inch difference in length can mess with your balance,” Calvin huffed, looking down at his slightly asymmetrical legs. “I may as well be walking around on a single stilt.”</p><p>Anevay turned to him and frowned. “...So put a lift in your other boot. Like a half-inch strip of leather. That’ll balance you right out.” She took a few arrows from a Worgen body and snapped the fletching and heads off, tying them against the woman’s leg tightly to bind the crack together.</p><p>Calvin blinked, looking back down at his grieves with curiosity. “...You know what? That would probably work.”</p><p>Sophie laughed before turning her gaze to Anevay as she tended to her leg. “I think that might be the first bit of practical advice I’ve heard a living soul give to any of us. Most of the time, people just say ‘You know that wouldn’t be a problem if you just stayed dead.’”</p><p>“I’d love to turn that around on a few nosey elves back in Quel’Thalas,” Anevay scoffed, tying the splint as tightly as she could. One advantage of being dead was that she didn’t have to worry about cutting Sophie’s circulation. “I’d love to tell a certain cradle-chaser to just lie in a grave.”</p><p>Sophie cocked her head slightly. “Huh, didn’t think elves had those kinds of problems.” </p><p>“Where there are sentient beings, there are sickos,” said another Dreadguard, Geralt, who didn’t look up from the warblade he was running a whetstone across. “The older the race, the weirder shit they get into.”</p><p>“Oh let me tell you about this bastard,” Anevay laughed as she helped Sophie to her feet and put the Forsaken’s arm over her shoulder to help her walk. “My mother arranged for me to marry this sleazebag when I was a baby. The man’s a hundred and twenty years older than me.”</p><p>There was a collective air of confusion and unease amongst the group. </p><p>“...So you’re telling me,” Calvin began, “that this guy looked at you as a baby and thought ‘Right well, I’m obviously going to be tapping that in a decade or so’?” The Dreadguard convulsed as the clarity of the prospect began to sink in. </p><p>“What did I tell you,” Geralt huffed. “The living call us abominations and then do freaky shit like that.”</p><p>“I mean I’ve known elves who liked their partners young, but ‘young’ still meant an actual adult,” Anevay scoffed. “Like… Lady Proudmoore young. Not ‘just learned to walk’ young.”</p><p>“Proudmoore,” Sophie mused, cupping her chin in her hand. “Where do I know that name?”</p><p>“It’s Kul’tiran,” Calvin replied matter of factly. “The Admiralty of Boralus is run by the Proudmoore house.” </p><p>“Yeah, but Kul’Tiras isn’t part of the Alliance anymore,” said another dreadguard, Frances. “Wasn’t there a Lady Proudmoore beside King Wrynn when he invaded the Undercity?”</p><p>“Yup,” Anevay nodded. “Froze everyone and then portaled the Alliance soldiers out before Wrynn could start something. Shame, honestly. I was looking forward to putting that bastard in the dirt.”</p><p>“If I could put even one Alliance King in the dirt in my unlifetime, I’d be satisfied,” Geralt said, a mischievous smile curling on his scared lips.</p><p>“I hear that the High King is in the midst of an uprising with the peasantry,” Sophie interjected. “Maybe we can bring them over to our side?”</p><p>“Let’s worry about the damned wolves before anything else,” Calvin said, waving the idea off. </p><p>“I think you’d have a hard time convincing Stormwind’s humans to accept undeath,” Anevay shrugged as they made it up to the camp. “They’re really steeped in the Light over there, even the dust-dwellers. I only know three living people who would gladly accept Undeath.”</p><p>“Really?” Sophie asked, cocking a brow with intrigue. “Who?”</p><p>“Uh let’s see… there’s a Draenei in Netherstorm who complains about sleep and the need to eat interfering with her research. Then there’s Hemet Nesingwary who really wants to be able to go on eternal hunts,” Anevay recounted as she set Sophie down in a chair at the medical tent. “And me.”</p><p>The entire company did a double take in Anevay’s direction. </p><p>“Wait, really?” Calvin balked, glowing yellow eyes wide with surprise. “You want to be one of us?”</p><p>Anevay shrugged. “Why not? It’s gotta be better than just lying in the dirt for eternity.” She framed her reasoning as entirely pragmatic, but truth be told Anevay had been lamenting the fact that she obeyed what, in retrospect, turned out to be a completely pointless order during the Fall that led to her being the only survivor of her squad. All of her sisters had perished and now wanted little to do with her. She’d spent a while wishing she could have just disobeyed and died so that she would still be with them.</p><p>And when Sylvanas revealed the Val’kyr in front of Hellscream, a hopeless pipe dream suddenly seemed like it might be within her grasp.</p><p>“...I mean, yeah, I suppose,” Sophie conceded. “It’s just… we aren’t used to living souls coming to that conclusion before their life begins flashing before their eyes. You know?”</p><p>Anevay stood back up and shrugged. “You going to be okay until an apothecary can come look at you?” she asked.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” Sophie nodded, examining her leg. “This is actually a really good splint. I’m pretty sure I’d have fractured something else if I tried this myself. Not very sensitive in the tactile department and all.” </p><p>“I’ve done enough first aid to know where the stress point is,” Anevay nodded, taking her leave. “Rest well, we’ll be heading back out as soon as the Blight catapults are ready.”</p><p>She didn’t wait for a response and returned to the front of the camp where Sylvanas was waiting with Agatha floating nearby.</p><p>“The Worgen have been thinned and demoralized, Dark Lady,” she announced. “Four hundred Worgen are dead. No casualties, only one minor injury.”</p><p>Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction. “No casualties?” she asked almost disbelievingly. “I must say, Champion, even with all you’ve accomplished, you continue to exceed my expectations.”</p><p>“I was trained by Nathanos, you expect me not to be able to handle some hounds?” Anevay smirked. “You wound me, Dark Lady.”</p><p>Sylvanas cocked a brow. “Are you stroking your own ego as well as the Ranger Lord’s,” she balked amusingly. “How unfortunate he isn’t here to bear witness.”</p><p>“It’s better this way. It would be horrible for his attitude,” Anevay laughed.</p><p>“Indeed,” Sylvanas said, silently beckoning Anevay over to the War table with a single finger. She directed her attention to marked points on the map. “Commander Belmont has marked the most effective targets to bombard with the Blight.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Anevay nodded as she looked at them. “Major holdings, fortifications, barracks, this is impressive. Belmont knows his stuff. I can see why Kalira and Lyana like him so much.”</p><p>“He’s certainly earned his station,” Sylvanas nodded. “The worgen are likely to send hunters to try and sabotage the artillery once they catch wind of our plans. They’ll need protection.”</p><p>“I can guard the two at this junction here,” Anevay said, pointing to one of the locations in between two high-priority targets. “Worst case scenario at least these two targets will still be eradicated.”</p><p>“Very well,” Sylvanas nodded. “I will assign our Dark Rangers across the outlying catapults. Perhaps some mages to compensate for any lack of manpower.”</p><p>“Excellent. Shall I head out immediately, Dark Lady?” Anevay asked, looking up at Sylvanas with a smile.</p><p>“In a moment,” Sylvanas replied, her gaze roaming over Anevay. “It looks as though your armor could use some tending to. Report to the smithy for repairs and find some nourishment in the interim. I don’t want to risk sending you out when you’re running on fumes.”</p><p>“Oh… um… okay,” Anevay nodded, feeling the wind taken out of her sails for a brief moment before she managed to compose herself from the unexpected consideration. She hadn’t been accustomed to orders like this before. “I’ll… go do that, then,” she said sheepishly as she turned for the smithy’s tent.</p><p>Sylvanas nodded, watching as the rather befuddled blood elf head off. The slightly dejected expression on Anevay's face gave the Banshee Queen pause, even if she wasn’t sure that it was especially suspicious. She was still airing on the side of caution in terms of fully trusting the champion. Even so, this exchange was more puzzling than cause for suspicion. What warrior would appear dejected after being given orders to rest after a full day on the battlefield?</p><p>Perhaps time would tell.</p>
<hr/><p>Having left her armor with Parnell, Anevay was left with nothing to do until she got it back. Nothing combat related at the very least. She left the Undercity in her civilian clothes and headed for Brill. There was usually something to occupy her time there. A cart needing unloading, a ship coming in, anything.</p><p>She found it in the form of Apothecary Johaan hauling crates off a cart into his lab. As he was coming out for another, Anevay ran up to him and waved. “Johaan, need a hand?”</p><p>Johaan turned to give Anevay a deadpan stare. “No, thank you. Both of mine are still attached,” he said. “Though I must congratulate you on being the millionth living soul to say that joke.”</p><p>“Um… I wasn’t making a joke. I was offering to help you unload,” Anevay said, patting one of the crates on the cart.</p><p>“...Oh. Then, yes. Please,” he nodded, reaffirming his grip on one of the crates. “Your pardon, Lady. Bad experience working with the living is all.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Anevay smiled, stacking three crates and hefting them off the cart. “I get it. I’ve had like six other people do that.”</p><p>“I can imagine,” Johaan said as he eased his own crate down by his work table. “The campaign in Northrend was the worst. Living people were everywhere and you couldn’t get away from them. They demanded you cooperate with them and their blasted narrow worldview.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know, I set out with the Forsaken and stayed there for most of the assault. I think I only dealt with the Argent Crusade at the tournament and at Icecrown Citadel itself. Otherwise I gave them a wide berth,” Anevay shrugged as she set the crates down and turned to follow him out to grab some more. “Actually Lady Proudmoore was with us in the Frozen Halls, so I guess that too.”</p><p>“How fortunate,” Johaan drawled. “I’m guessing after the Wrathgate fiasco, the living wanted to keep an extra sharp eye on us Apothecaries. Wanting to make sure we were gearing to Blight any of them again. It was always Argent this. Dalaran that.”</p><p>“Yeah, the Horde asked me to report on the apothecaries because I was so close by,” Anevay sighed. “I didn’t though. I had more important things to be doing than scrutinizing allies.”</p><p>Johaan was silent for a moment, looking at Anevay studiously before hoisting another crate into his grasp. “How surprisingly trusting,” he mused aloud. “Most of the living would consider you a fool.”</p><p>“I was there to kill Scourge, nothing else,” Anevay shrugged as she grabbed three more crates. “Besides, I was there to retake the Undercity, so I knew it was the Burning Legion who killed everyone at the Wrathgate.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Johaal said with a wry smile. “I still owe you a drink for that Doomguard you pried off of me.”</p><p>“I like Shattered Hand Beer and Spirit Water,” Anevay smiled back.</p><p>“Duly noted,” the apothecary said, easing the crate beside the others and reaching for the crowbar beside his workbench. “See if you can get those other ones opened, would you. Carefully, though. The contents are fragile.”</p><p>“What’s in here anyway?” Anevay asked as she pulled a small dagger out of her boot and wiggled it under the lid, taking the warning to be gentle extremely seriously. She learned the hard way to trust the apothecaries when they said something was dangerous.</p><p>“Just some chemical agents,” Johaan said, pulling a row of flasks out of a crate. “Since the campaign in Gilneas started, we’re fighting more living enemies than undead. As such we’ve been hard at work watering down the Blight formula to ensure it’s still lethal to the Worgen, but not for us.”</p><p>“Nice,” Anevay smiled as she wriggled the lid off and moved on to another crate. “Any chance you can make me a gas mask so I don’t have to sprint for my life when a strike is called?”</p><p>“Such a thing can be arranged, certainly,” Johaan nodded. “Although there is no guarantee that we can remove the acidic properties of the new formula. So either way, you’ll want to have as little exposed skin as possible.”</p><p>“I can manage that,” Anevay nodded, pulling another lid off. “Thanks Johaan.”</p><p>“Think nothing of it,” Johaan said. “I must say, your opinion of the Blight is not what I expect from most people. Most people say things like, ‘Oh no! How could you create such a thing so inhumane?’ or ‘Oh, you Forsaken really are no better than the Scourge!’ or ‘AAAHH! My throat is melting!’”</p><p>“Losing a fight against the Scourge tends to make you less scrutinizing of battle tactics,” Anevay shrugged as she pulled off another lid. “Watching someone you love be mutilated by Arthas probably helps too.”</p><p>A hum of acknowledgement rumbled in his throat as he sifted over his many vials and beakers. "Those who preach about valor and honor seldom are those who ever truly suffered."</p><p>Anevay nodded in agreement. “There really is no honorable way to fight a war. Either you kill a lot of people or you die.”</p><p>"Funny how so many people get stuck on that part," Johaan mused, placing one of his beakers over a bunsen burner. "As I recall, your people tended to at least understand our mindset with doing what we could to survive. But then they got really big on the Light again and then it was back to being virtuous and whatever nonsense."</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Anevay nodded with a sigh as she finished opening the last crate and started pulling vials out. “I never attuned to the Sunwell when it was reactivated. I just kept consuming fel crystals. I saw something particularly horrible when Silvermoon fell and I don’t see myself regaining my faith in the Light any time soon.”</p><p>"I'd say the entirety of Lordaeron could sympathize with that," Johaan said with a laugh.</p><p>“Thanks,” Anevay laughed, pulling the last flask out of a crate and setting it on the table with the others.</p><p>“What was it you saw anyway?” Johaan asked.</p><p>Anevay paused, briefly debating whether or not to share that information. She ultimately decided it wasn’t exactly sensitive and shrugged. “I saw Arthas mutilate Sylvanas and turn her into a banshee.”</p><p>Johaan fell silent, slowly turning from his work to give Anevay a look of wide eyed incredulity. "You… you actually saw that happen? You saw Sylvanas become the Dark Lady?"</p><p>Anevay nodded, closing her eyes and trying to banish the memories from her mind. She’d made a mistake. She shouldn’t have told him what she saw. All it did was make her think about it. She reached back and scratched the back of her neck, her Amani scar itching as it always did when she thought about it. “Yes. I did.”</p><p>"...Well, shit," he said plainly. "They say no one but Arthas himself witnessed such a thing. To have seen that horror with your own eyes…"</p><p>“Trust me, it’s not something I like to think about,” Anevay visibly shuddered, emptying the last of the crates and sighing. “There we go, that’s all of them.”</p><p>Johaan blinked, his work having completely escaped his thoughts for a moment. "Ah! Yes. Thank you. It looks as though everything is intact. Good. I won't have to throttle those clumsy horses."</p><p>Anevay smiled and turned for the door. “Happy to help, Johaan.”</p><p>"Let me know next time you're in town," he called back. "I'll be sure to buy you those drinks."</p><p>“Will do!”</p>
<hr/><p>Sylvanas didn’t trust easily. That much was known by everyone. She especially didn’t trust the living. In her experience they backstabbed far too frequently to be trusted.</p><p>Which was why she was currently in a dilemma. Darkflare had yet to actually raise her suspicions. In fact, she was one of the most effective soldiers she’d ever had under her command. She always ensured no or few casualties, she practically carried a Dreadguard back to the apothecaries, and had been seen petting an abomination. What in the Endless Dark was that woman up to? The more Anevay demonstrated to be trustworthy, the more suspicious Sylvanas was getting. In truth, one of the most sure fire ways to make the Banshee Queen wary was to present her with something that seemed too good to be true. Someone like Darkflare had the makings of a con about her. Someone to serve as loyally and efficiently as possible to ensure that Sylvanas lowered her guard around them, as she did with Varimathras.</p><p>But… such a ploy would take time and a painstaking amount of caution. Something that was very much unlike Darkflare. The Blood Elf did not have the mindset of a patient schemer. She didn't need one. Most of her problems were ones she could solve with her swords and quick thinking. Even as a Farstrider, the young elf was quick to action.</p><p>Perhaps time had changed that about her, but Sylvanas would need evidence of that before she could proceed with a countermeasure. </p><p>It was for that reason she called upon the woman who currently kneeled before her. Sophie Plaguemeadow. One of the Dreadguards under Darkflare’s command since the campaign began. </p><p>"Arise, soldier," Sylvanas said calmly. </p><p>Sophie stood up and saluted Sylvanas. “Am I needed somewhere, Dark Lady?”</p><p>"Not at this time," Sylvanas said assuringly. "I simply have some questions for you. A simple assessment if you will."</p><p>“Oh… well then I’m all ears, Dark Lady,” Sophie stood at ease.</p><p>Sylvanas leaned back in her throne. Her crimson eyes regarded the Forsaken soldier fairly, yet discerningly. "As I understand, you have been serving under the direct command of Lady Darkflare. Is that correct?"</p><p>“Yes, Dark Lady. The same dozen who she gathered for the assault in Gilneas,” Sophie nodded.</p><p>Sylvanas nodded in kind, her expression keeping remarkably neutral. "...Have you or the others any qualms about taking orders from a living soul?"</p><p>“Well… yeah. We always do,” Sophie nodded. “But Lady Darkflare makes it tolerable. She’s actually quite a good commander. And she seems to care about the people she commands. She splinted my leg when I broke it herself. Most of the living would sooner set themselves on fire before touching any of us.”</p><p>Sylvanas tilted her head slightly. She had seen Darkflare help this soldier back to Forsaken command on the occasion she described as well as heard second hand accounts of the blood elf's gracious leadership from the grapevine. It would appear as though all the stories lined up. </p><p>"...And in the time you've served under her," the Banshee Queen continued, "You haven't seen her do anything questionable?"</p><p>“Well don’t we all, Dark Lady?” Sophie said with a bit of a chuckle.</p><p>A frown crept upon the edge of Sylvanas' lips. "I suppose I should have made my meaning more plain," she conceded, her clawed fingers drumming against the arm of her throne. "Have you seen her do anything that <em> we </em> should be concerned about? Something that would affect the Forsaken as a whole for the worst?"</p><p>Sophie tapped a bony finger against her chin, racking her brain to see if she could come up with anything. “Hmm… can’t say that I have, Dark Lady. As far as I can tell, the girl’s just… nice.”</p><p>Sylvanas narrowed her eyes slightly. The drumming on the arm ceasing. "...Interesting," she said in little more than a whisper, knowing the power behind her voice would carry the word to Sophie's ears. "Very well then. Thank you for your time, soldier. You are dismissed."</p><p>Sophie bowed and took her leave, pausing only once to glance back at the throne before disappearing out the door. What had that been about? Was the Dark Lady suspicious? Did that mean <em> she </em>should be suspicious as well?</p><p>As the soldier left, a hooded figure stepped out from the shadows cast about the Throne Room and approached Sylvanas. Dark Ranger Kalira stepped close to the throne, keeping her voice low. "Shall we summon the other soldiers under her command?" She asked.</p><p>"Yes," Sylvanas nodded. "We shall see if all their stories line up with Plaguemeadow's. And in the meantime, one of you will be shadowing Lady Darkflare. Report any suspicious behavior you find."</p><p>“What shall we do in the interim?” Kalira asked.</p><p>“In the interim… I suppose I will have to presume innocence until she is caught,” Sylvanas sighed, standing up. “Excuse me, I have business to attend to.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Deprived of Physical Contact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Parnell, I’d like a word,” Sylvanas said as she entered the blacksmith’s shop.</p><p>The siege had ended for now, and defensive fortifications had been put into place to hold Gilneas after repelling the first waves of resistance. There would be more, however. With the Gilneans having retreated to Kalimdor with the aid of the Kaldorei, Sylvanas knew an Alliance assault would be coming eventually. </p><p>Nevertheless, her workers had returned to the Undercity for the time being.</p><p>“Yes, Dark Lady?” the blacksmith asked as he looked up from the sword he was working on.</p><p>“A few weeks ago I sent Champion Darkflare to have her gear repaired. I would like to know how the job went,” Sylvanas said innocuously.</p><p>“Er… okay, I guess,” he said, setting his hammer down. “Champion Darkflare’s armor wasn’t too heavily damaged. Frankly I was surprised, as every piece was of a different size and looked like they were made for everything except a blood elf.”</p><p>Sylvanas’ fingers drimmed against her upper arm as Parnell recounted the job. While it was something she indeed observed passively, the confirmation that Anevay’s armor was more or less a patchwork collection of armor she found lying around was troubling. She was the supposed ‘Avenger of Quel’Thalas’ and Lor’themar couldn’t give her a proper suit of armor? He commissioned a statue of her before he commissioned a proper uniform?</p><p>“What else can you tell me?” she pressed.</p><p>“Well for one her chestplate is barely a chestplate,” Parnell said, as he reached down and took a brown piece of steel and set it on the anvil. It looked like a chestplate designed to only cover the upper torso, leaving the midriff exposed. “She was hiding this underneath her tabard. I saw fit to confiscate it because it was a liability.”</p><p>Sylvanas took the rather sparse piece of iron from the smithy to examine it more closely. A knit formed between her brow as anger threatened to rise into a rolling boil within her chest. Whether this was something Anevay wore of her own volition or if it was something forced upon her (she wouldn’t have put it past Garrosh to assign this to her), it was inexcusable. </p><p>“It appears as thought my hand has been forced,” she said to herself before turning her attention back to Parnell. “I am making a full armor order for Darkflare.”</p><p>“A full order?” Parnell raised his brow. “That’s rather extensive. Um, let me see…”</p><p>Parnell pulled out a stack of parchment and flipped through it. “Hmm… I can have it finished within two weeks, probably sooner depending on what material you wanted it made out of and how extravagant?”</p><p>As the Banshee Queen considered the question, her eyes fell to her gauntlet. It was made out of Arcanite. A finer material than the typical steel that composed the Dreadguard uniforms. Perhaps something similar for Darkflare would have been appropriate?</p><p>“...In terms of extent, it should be comparable to our dreadguard’s armor, but more indicative of her elevated station. As for material,” She trailed off, her expression pensive.</p><p>“...Saronite.”</p><p>“Saronite?” Parnell looked up, surprised. “That’s rather expensive, my Queen. And difficult to work with. Looking at around a month to craft it.”</p><p>“Then we will have to ensure that her current armor is well kept in the interim,” Sylvanas said plainly. “Just focus on getting this order done.”</p><p>“Y-yes, my Queen. I will see it done as quickly as possible! I will only need Lady Darkflare’s measurements,” Parnell explained. “She didn’t stay long enough for me to get them when she dropped her set off.”</p><p>“I will see to it that you receive them,” Sylvanas said with a nod.</p><hr/><p>For once, a brief reprieve from the battle was a welcome change. Sylvanas had given her a small room in the Inn to relax in, and even had it furnished for a living elf. Despite how cramped it was, she was actually rather comfortable and felt like she could actually get a good night’s sleep. Ever since she came to Lordaeron, the abject misery and aimlessness had all but vanished from her mind. It was so easy to talk to the Forsaken, after they got over the initial shock of a living person being polite to them.</p><p>She actually felt at home among the dead. And she was certain her psylosopher would have a few choice words to say about that.</p><p>The only thing she could really find disagreeable about this arrangement was the food. Sure, the mushrooms she ate were plenty edible and gave her suitable nutrience. What it was lacking, however, was taste. She has drunk water with more flavor than those mushrooms. It was all she could do to acquire some spices to try and garnish the mushrooms. If that was the worst thing she could say about life in the Undercity, she could certainly see herself staying here.</p><p>That was when a sobering thought occurred to her as she sat up. Would she be <em> allowed </em>to stay here? Would Sylvanas permit such a thing? Anevay realized just how likely it was for Sylvanas to dismiss her and send her back to Quel’Thalas to await another deployment. It was a likely occurrence, and one she had been expecting from the start. But the longer she stayed in Lordaeron the more she didn’t want to leave.</p><p>Here in the Undercity, among the living dead, she had the opportunity to continue working under her old commander. The woman who took her away from her hellish life and gave her a new one all those years ago. The Ranger General she dutifully and happily served during the best years of her entire existence. The woman she took great visceral pleasure in avenging, along with her sister rangers, when she finally slayed Arthas. Even now, having Sylvanas’ favor was the most gratifying thing she could think of. </p><p>And on top of that, she had earned the favor of the Forsaken themselves. Whether by her actions on the battlefield or because she treated them with basic decency, the undead populace truly took to Anevay. They liked her for who she was and not how they envisioned her to be. They were too cynical to treat anyone with that sort of blind idolization, save for the Dark Lady. </p><p>Between a sense of purpose and a sense of belonging, she had a good thing going in Lordaeron. What did she have back in Quel’Thalas. </p><p>The rope.</p><p>And there was a very likely possibility that she wouldn’t be allowed to stay. Anevay didn’t like that. She leapt off her bed to take a walk, maybe burn off some energy, but the moment her hand reached for the doorknob someone knocked on the other side.</p><p>Taken aback for a moment, Anevay carefully asked “Who is it?”</p><p>“Kalira,” came the voice on the other side.</p><p>Anevay’s brow furrowed. Why was Kalira coming to speak to her? She reached forward and opened the door, looking at the Dark Ranger with a skeptical eye. “Yes? Something you need?”</p><p>“The Dark Lady has tasked me with patrolling topside around the ruins,” Kalira began, keeping her tone professional. “I recall that you tend to have restless legs, so I thought I would extend the offer for you to join me.”</p><p>“Huh… strange, I was just thinking about taking a walk,” Anevay smiled. “I hope it’s alright that I’m not outfitted, the blacksmith confiscated my armor.”</p><p>Kalira looked Anevay up and down to confirm that the blood elf was, indeed, in her civies. “Hmm… I’m fairly certain I have a spare cloak you could borrow if you are at all particular about professionalism.”</p><p>“That’d do just fine,” Anevay nodded as she followed Kalira out, closing the door behind her. “I did requisition some new armor from Orgrimmar, but as usual Hellscream is giving me the same runaround Thrall used to.”</p><p>“Runaround?” Kalira inquired as she reached into her rucksack. A rucksack that Anevay soon realized could fit far more than what it’s modest size would suggest once she pulled out a second full length Ranger cloak. </p><p>Anevay took the cloak and wrapped it around her neck, feeling a familiar comfort from wearing a ranger cloak again. While she enjoyed using swords, she had occasionally yearned for her bow again. Probably because she was yearning for her Farstrider days. “Thanks Kalira.”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Kalira said airily before giving Anevay another once over with her eyes. “Although I must say, it does fit you better than I remember. Your days as a fighter must have strengthened your build.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve really toned up in the last seven years,” Anevay nodded. “My armor doesn’t quite fit though. I kinda pulled most of it off the Alliance and the Scourge.”</p><p>“You mentioned that the Warchief has been difficult in providing you with a replacement?” The two elves began making their way to the Trade Quarter as they conversed. “I wouldn’t think a warrior with your accomplishments would have such problems.”</p><p>“See, you would think, but no,” Anevay pursed her lips. “I’ve always been given excuses about spare funds whenever I asked to be properly sized for a set of armor. It always seemed like there was never the resources to spare, even when we weren’t actively at war. I’m still using weapons I found in the dirt for crying out loud.”</p><p>Kalira felt a crease form between her brow. “I have forgotten how much stock the living places in money,” she said, an air of disdain in her voice. “Thinking back, it feels utterly preposterous.” </p><p>“Yeah. And I’m not paid well,” Anevay shook her head. “I’d just fork over the money for a decent Mithril or Thorium armor set, but I just can’t afford it. I’m still on the bottom rung of the Quel’Thalas military. Horde military too.”</p><p>“How odd,” Kalira moued. “With the amount of authority the Dark Lady entrusts you with and how fondly the Dreadguard regard you, I had assumed you had that effect on the rest of the Horde military.”</p><p>“Uh… no,” Anevay shook her head. “The soldiers and the civilians might think highly of me, but the Horde’s officers and leaders? Not so much. I think it’s my age, honestly. I’m still under a hundred, so as far as a lot of people are concerned I may as well still be a child.”</p><p>“You certainly don’t fight like one,” Kalira said as they stepped upon the Undercity elevator. “I’ve seen you in action on the front and I’ve heard of your exploits in Northrend. It’s nothing to dismiss.”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t get it either, honestly,” Anevay sighed. “I’ve heard a few people say that with my history I should be kitted out in Saronite or Titansteel, but that’s never going to happen. I can’t even get this crack in my warblade fixed because it’s elven and only elves can fix them. And elven blacksmiths are expensive.”</p><p>Kalira looked at the unfortunate chip in the blade. Beyond the crack, it didn’t appear in too bad of shape, but that flaw would definitely cause problems later down the line if it wasn’t tended to. But what’s more…</p><p>“That blade looks familiar,” she mused aloud. </p><p>“Does it?” Anevay asked, pulling her warblade off her back and looking at it. “I always kinda felt that way, but I could never put my finger on it. I found it in a ring of dead tulips when we were retaking Quel’thalas.”</p><p>Kalira blinked, her crimson eyes flickering with something that was already gone before Anevay could get a read on it. “...Interesting.”</p><p>The elevator stopped, bringing the two into the inner corridor of the ruined keep. “...I suppose it’s extra unfortunate that the Gilneas campaign does not have much in terms of salvageable goods. The worgen don’t wear much armor,” a small smirk that was adjacent to playful crossed her lips. “...and I have the sneaking suspicion you are not particularly fond of guns.”</p><p>“Those things are just foul,” Anevay scoffed. “Any weapon that emits smoke is not fit for use by anyone!”</p><p>“And they’re wasteful,” Kalira added with a wry grin. “A good arrow you can recover and use again for later. When was the last time you heard of someone recovering used bullets?”</p><p>“Not without a scalpel, that’s for sure,” Anevay nodded as they stepped out into the ruins. Anevay reached up and patted the head of one of the abomination guards as they passed. The creature let out a pleased giggle before they went about it’s business.</p><p>“Hmm, I guess every manner of Forsaken has taken a shine to you,” Kalira mused.</p><p>“Yeah, I honestly wasn’t expecting that,” Anevay smiled as they stepped out of the throne room and into the open air of Tirisfal Glades. “I was expecting people to just give me a wide berth until I left.”</p><p>“Admittedly so was I,” Kalira said with a slight shrug. “No offense intended, Darkflare, but the living have earned our wariness on many accounts.”</p><p>“Yeah I understand,” Anevay nodded, casting her eyes down to the ground. “I got that message loud and clear the last time I was here. Not counting the battle at least.”</p><p>Kalira frowned, her gaze cast to the horizon. “Yes, word was that the reunion with Alina was ugly.”</p><p>“It was rancid,” Anevay shook her head and sighed. “You know, it wasn’t the rejection that really hurt. It was the way she mocked me for daring to miss her.”</p><p>Kalira lips pursed into a thin line, her ears folding against the fabric of her hood. “Cruelty is easy to call upon in this existence,” she conceded. “Alina found no trouble finding it within herself.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Anevay said, looking dejected as she stared at the grass. “Well I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? That bridge is well and truly burned.”</p><p>Kalira made a small hum of acknowledgement before silence fell between the two of them. They kept their pace swift and even as they patroled about the ruins. However it wasn’t much longer before Kalira spoke again. </p><p>“...I suppose I just find it curious,” she began, “that this place has caused you such… heartache, and yet you were so swift to return.”</p><p>“It wasn’t Alina who asked me to come help with Gilneas. It was Sylvanas,” Anevay corrected her. “I couldn’t refuse a request from her. I couldn’t do that even if I hadn’t been miserable in Quel’thalas.”</p><p>“You’re still that fond of our Queen?” Kalira asked, her tone laced with a hint of curiosity and amusement. “I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising. You’ve already demonstrated that you are not… put off by the undead.”</p><p>“Living or Undead, she’s still Sylvanas,” Anevay smiled a little as she took her eyes away from the grass. “I’ve always been extremely fond of her, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”</p><p>“Well, it might come as a shock to you, but I don’t believe that fondness has entirely gone unreciprocated.” Kalira watched as Anevay’s eyes widened to an impossible degree while her jaw practically hit the floor. “What I mean is that she has spoken quite highly of you since we began this campaign. She’s even been saying your level of determination is something the other Forsaken should aspire to. It’s not very often she gives such flattery to any of the living.”</p><p>Kalira covertly left out the fact that Sylvanas was just as suspicious of Anevay.</p><p>Anevay put a hand over her chest and looked like she was about to cry. Genuine, sincere praise from anyone in the Horde was hard to come by for anything other than her body count. That it was coming from the least approachable person in the Horde, who Anevay had looked up to since she was a girl, touched her. </p><p>“I… really?” she asked quietly. “She really says that?”</p><p>“She did,” Kalira nodded. “Her tone was so jarringly sincere that I quite nearly suspected that she was under some sort of spell. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.”</p><p>“Wow…” Anevay whispered. “I… that’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in the last three months, Kalira. T-Thank you.”</p><p>Kalira blinked, uncertain of why Anevay was expressing gratitude. “I… I simply conveyed what the Dark Lady spoke,” she said. “You owe me no thanks, Darkflare.” </p><p>“It’s still something I needed to hear. And I doubt the Dark Lady would have told me herself,” Anevay smiled, reaching out and gently squeezing Kalira’s arm. “I’m grateful you told me regardless.”</p><p>Kalira gasped, her entire body seizing up. Her eyes were blown wide as her mind went blank.</p><p>Hot. </p><p>Anevay’s hand was hot to the touch. More heat than she ever thought it was possible for her to feel any more. Like many undead, her tactile senses were muted. Grievous wounds would feel like pricks. A biting cold only felt like a faint breeze. After years of feeling next to nothing, suddenly her mind swam with acute sensation. Ironically, the feeling of suchheat made her freeze in place.</p><p>Anevay picked up on Kalira’s gasp and the way she tensed up, and quickly withdrew her hand. “Belore, are you alright?” she asked, quietly afraid that she’d hurt Kalira in some way. She looked down at her hand and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so why had Kalira reacted that way? “I… did I hurt you?”</p><p>In the absence of the intense heat, Kalira managed to come down from the sudden whiteout her mind was thrusted into. “I… no, I don’t think so,” she rasped out, only just realizing that shock droze air from her seldom used lungs. “...Your hand… it was just… very warm. I wasn’t prepared.”</p><p>Anevay looked puzzled. “Really? I thought the Undead couldn’t feel hot or cold?” She was certain that was the case, or at least she remembered one of the Dark Rangers saying as such in the Frozen Halls.</p><p>“We can’t… or, we shouldn’t be able to,” Kalira’s eyes looked at the hand that had just held onto her arm. She could feel the memory of that heat echo on her skin. “I… may I?” she asked, extending a hand.</p><p>“Um… sure,” Anevay said, extending her hand out and touching Kalira’s fingertips.</p><p>Kalira was anticipating the warmth this time. Therefore, instead of a sharp gasp, the Dark Ranger let out a low shudder. “Oh, <em> Belore, </em>” she said breathlessly. Her hand suddenly grasped Anevay’s hand entirely, searching for the warmth that made her head spin. </p><p>Anevay lurched slightly when Kalira gripped her hand like a vice. It was strange that something so simple as touching her skin would cause her to react like this, but truth be told she was fighting the urge to shudder as well. She’d been touch-starved for years, and Kalira’s hand was so… refreshingly cold. It was like reaching her hand into a drift of powder snow. In truth, Anevay knew her blood ran hot. She’d been complaining about the heat in both Quel’thalas and Orgrimmar much to the confusion of everyone else. It had taken a while to notice that the reason for it was that she wasn’t taking in energy from the Sunwell. She was still consuming fel crystals to ease her magic addiction. That made her run hot.</p><p>And to the Forsaken, apparently they could feel that as clearly as if they were still living.</p><p>Kalira began breathing heavily, her other hand trailing up Anevay’s arm. By the Darkness, why did Anevay feel so warm? </p><p>Her gaze trailed upward and suddenly the Dark Ranger realized just how close she and Anevay were to each other. She all but lept back in response. </p><p>“F-Forgive me!” she choked out. “I’m… not sure what came over me.”</p><p>“I-It’s alright,” Anevay whispered, averting her eyes and feeling her cheeks grow hot. “I uh… I didn’t mind…”</p><p>Kalira blinked, Anevay’s words throwing her almost as strongly as her touch. “...It’s been years since I felt… anything that intense,” she whispered. “I think it was… intoxicating.”</p><p>“I think I know what you mean…” Anevay whispered as she stared at her hand, still remembering how invigorating the chill of Kalira’s skin was. “You’re very cold, by the way…” </p><p>“Oh, yes. Such is undead. Pardon me,” Kalira said, her ears drooping slightly before perking up in curiosity. “...Unless, the cold was what you didn’t mind…” </p><p>“Actually… it was kinda nice,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. Then she winced when she realized what she’d just said. Kalira was cold because she was dead. She’d just implied being attracted to a dead body. For all her posturing to Meadowbriar a few months back, thinking those words made her realize how creepy she sounded. “I… that probably makes me sound weird, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“Oh, no… well perhaps, yes,” Kalira said, wilting slightly. “Although… I don’t necessarily mind weird.” The Dark Ranger wanted to suddenly vanish with how utterly ridiculous she felt. A single moment of tactile contact and she was acting like a flustered… she honestly didn’t know what she was acting like. </p><p>“Oh…” Anevay breathed a sigh of relief, glad she hadn’t offended Kalira or anything. “Okay that’s good then.” She smiled sheepishly as she looked anywhere but Kalira’s eyes, her cheeks a bright red.</p><p>“Yes… I would say that’s good...” Kalira suddenly sighed with exasperation. “This is all… rather bizarre isn’t it?”</p><p>“Just a little bit,” Anevay nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m just like this sometimes. Now more so than ever.”</p><p>“Deprived of physical contact?” Kalira asked, looking down at her own hand. “Yes… I suppose I can imagine what that’s like.” </p><p>“Yeah… the last time anyone so much as hugged me was before the Fall,” Anevay nodded in agreement. “You never realize how deprived you are until someone finally touches you.”</p><p>“Once again, I’m surprised you haven’t been… propositioned for such a thing,” Kalira said. “I understand the leadership disrespects you, but you must be up to your ears in willing commoners.”</p><p>“Other Sin’dorei tend to lose interest when I don’t live up to their expectations,” Anevay frowned. “To them I’m some mythic hero. And when they see the bloody mess their hero really is they decide they prefer the fiction over the reality.”</p><p>Kalira couldn’t help but scoff. “Psh, typical. The living could look at a woman like you and <em> still </em> be picky. I’d tell you if I still had blood in my veins, I’d…” she trailed off before wilting slightly. “Erh… sorry. Inappropriate.” </p><p>Anevay’s eyes were wide. She’d caught what Kalira had almost said, and found herself quite bewildered indeed. “Seriously? Me? But I’m like… all busted up,” she absently ran her fingers over her burned hand.</p><p>“Yes, but I’m dead. That doesn’t exactly put me in a position to be particular,” Kalira replied dryly. “Besides… the scars actually look pretty good on you. Helps with the whole rugged warrior deal you got going.”</p><p>Anevay was speechless. She’d never actually heard anyone say she had a rugged look before. The fact that the only woman she’d ever managed to attract was Alina, who promptly abandoned her, hadn’t exactly instilled a good sense of self-worth in her to begin with. The more scarred up and battered she became, the less she actually thought of herself. She’d actually given up completely on finding someone years ago, only going on dates in Quel’thalas because her psylosopher told her to.</p><p>“Um… thanks Kalira,” she whispered. “Nobody’s ever said that about me before.”</p><p>“Well, I know it might not mean much from a dead woman, but you are quite lovely,” Kalira said, a small smile on the edge of her lips. “The idea that anyone can’t see that is honestly rather ludicrous.”</p><p>Anevay blushed and smiled, rubbing her own arm in nervousness. “Kalira… would it be inappropriate if I gave you a hug?”</p><p>Kalira blinked, her ears rising to full attention. A small show of… excitement really. Her widened eyes darted to and fro, confirming that there was no one in their periphery that was watching them. “...I personally don’t think so,” she said somewhat bashfully, “...but even if it was, I would still be agreeable.” </p><p>Anevay stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kalira, hugging the risen elf tightly. She let out the breath that she’d been holding as Kalira’s cold frame pressed against her, sapping away the uncomfortable heat she felt nearly everywhere she went. Coupled with the fact that Kalira was quite lovely herself, and Anevay felt much of the tension she’d built up over the years completely melting away.</p><p>Kalira herself shuddered softly against Anevay’s shoulder as she returned the embrace. With the cloak and tunic the blood elf wore being relatively thin, she could feel the roaring heat of her body unabated. Her throat clenched to keep anything louder than a sigh from escaping her lips. Such warmth filled her with ease and excitement all at once. After being unable to feel anything for so long, only to find herself in the impossibly hot arms of a beautiful woman. It was overwhelming. </p><p>“...This is nice,” she murmured gently, suddenly realizing that Anevay’s scent was in fact rather pleasant as well.</p><p>“Yeah it is…” Anevay whispered, squeezing Kalira tighter and practically burying her face in the Dark Ranger’s neck. “<em> Belore </em>it is…”</p><p>A slight gasp escaped Kalira’s lips as her grip on Anevay tightened slightly. Her nostrils flared as she took in the scent of the other woman’s hair. She smelled of peacebloom interestingly enough, with just a hint of something smokey. Like freshly burnt herbs. </p><p>“I… I don’t think I realized how much I may have needed this,” she whispered, finding the prospect of letting go damn near unbearable.</p><p>“Me neither…” Anevay groaned. The contact she’d been craving in the background for so long had been forced to the front of her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to just stay like this for the next year if she could.</p><p>Kalira wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed since they embraced. It was almost as if time became dilated as they were like this. Eventually, she mustered to will to mumble. “...We might want to resume with the patrol,” while making no effort to pull away.</p><p>“Yeah we should,” Anevay agreed reluctantly, managing to summon the will to pull back and let go of the ranger. “No sense getting on the Dark Lady’s bad side. I doubt <em> she </em>would be so easily pacified.”</p><p>“I’m certainly not bold enough to test that theory,” Kalira said with a huff of laughter. As the hug officially broke, the two of them carried on with the patrol. Though it was not comparable to the contact they shared, the echo of the other’s touch lingered upon their skin. It did not sate the hunger they were only recently made aware of, but it made it more bearable. </p><hr/><p>“Really?” Anya whistled as Kalira recounted what had happened on patrol. “Just a hug and you’re acting like a flustered greenling? I’ve heard that Darkflare has a good grip, but this is ridiculous.”</p><p>"I felt her touch, Anya!" Kalira stressed. "Like <em> actually </em> felt it. I haven't <em> actually </em> felt something in <em> years! </em> This wasn't just a matter of strength. The heat that burned beneath her skin was… <em> intoxicating. </em> It… it felt like I was alive again!"</p><p>“What?!” Anya bolted up from her lounge and stared at Kalira bug-eyed. “That’s impossible, Kalira. Sensations are for the living.”</p><p>"I thought the same," Kalira replied. "But what I felt was no illusion. If she were to lay a hand on you, I know you would feel it, same as I did."</p><p>“How could that be, though?” Anya balked. “What’s so unique about Darkflare compared to any other elf?”</p><p>"Well, her eyes do still burn with the Fel," Cyndia chimed in as she looked up from the arrow she had been fletching. "Maybe that has something to do with it?"</p><p>"She did say she always ran hotter than most people," Kalira mused, cupping her chin in thought. </p><p>“That makes sense. Fel magic burns life to fuel itself,” Anya nodded in agreement. “Could also explain why she’s so vicious in battle. She was never as brutal or strong before the Fall.”</p><p>"Indeed," Kalira agreed, her ears folding against her hair as a thought crossed her mind. "Do you think we should inform the Dark Lady about this?"</p><p>"She did ask us to report anything suspicious," Cyndia replied. "I suppose the knowledge that Darkflare is a walking aphrodisiac for undead might be something of concern to her."</p><p>“I think aphrodisiac is taking it a little too far,” Anya scoffed. “You said it yourself, you could feel her warmth. And honestly when was the last time any of us felt a hug? She was probably just as affected as you were, if her stories about being lonely are anything to go by.”</p><p>"She mentioned how the cold of my skin was pleasant to her," Kalira murmured, looking at her bare hand. "I suppose it all evens out."</p><p>“Yeah, so maybe don’t embellish. Just tell her exactly what happened,” Anya nodded. “You tell her Darkflare is an aphrodisiac and she might get even more paranoid than she already is.”</p><p>"Or she might wanna take a hit of it herself," Cyndia said with a wry grin. "Which reminds me. I believe it's my turn to shadow over Darkflare. Perhaps I should repeat this little experiment Kalira started. You know. For science."</p><p>Kalira scoffed and rolled her eyes. “We’re supposed to shadow her, Cyndia. Not invade her personal space.”</p><p>“Didn’t stop you.”</p><p>“She ASKED!”</p><p>"And so I will ask her as well," Cyndia said matter of factly. </p><p>Kalira sighed. “Nathanos is right, we are the worst…”</p><hr/><p>Sylvanas sat forward on her throne, her hand clasped together in front of her face as she considered Kalira’s report. It wasn’t unheard of, when she really thought about it. Forsaken warlocks had reported experiencing brief flashes of sensation when they worked with Fel magic. The campaign in Outland had created a lot of very interesting reports from the Deathguard.</p><p>But the fact that this sensation came from touching a living person proved… problematic. It meant there was the possibility of becoming attached. Of becoming compromised.</p><p>“Is Darkflare aware of this?” Sylvanas asked. “Does she know the potential power this could give her?”</p><p>"She is aware of the effect her touch had on me," Kalira confirmed with a nod. "However, a similar effect was had on her. She said the cold of my body soothed her. She leaned into my touch like she was frantically chasing the sensation. Considering this as well as her own solitude and tactile starvation, I suspect whatever advantage she would ordinarily have is cancelled out by this counter effect."</p><p>Sylvanas’ suspicious expression quickly turned to a grim frown. The effect her consumption of fel had on her rangers may very well be coincidental, but from Kalira’s own report it was starting to become apparent that in her desperation to make a connection with someone, Anevay had begun to romanticize death. Fetishize it even. It wasn’t the first time the Forsaken had dealt with this, but it was the first time it came from someone in the Horde.</p><p>Someone they knew.</p><p>“So, she wishes to sleep among the dead, does she?” Sylvanas asked tersely.</p><p>Kalira's eyes widened before being cast to the stone on the floor. "I… cannot say for certain, my Queen," she said cautiously. "Our contact did not… reach that point. Whatever intimacy she is drawn to, I'm not sure if it's exclusively carnal."</p><p>“Find out,” Sylvanas said, sitting back in her throne. “I won’t have someone in my city who simply wishes to indulge that which the living consider taboo.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Warg Mount Suits You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anevay was woken up by the sound of knocking on the door. Groggily pulling herself out of bed and wrapping a robe around herself, she grumbled as she wondered who was on the other side of the door and why they were calling for her this early.</p><p>Pulling the door open, she raised an eyebrow at Dark Ranger Cyndia. “What the… did something happen?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.</p><p>"No," Cyndia said, shaking her head. "I just felt like dropping by." Her crimson eyes roamed over the cozy room behind Anevay for a moment. "May I come in? Or would you rather return to your sleep?"</p><p>“No, c’mon in,” Anevay yawned, stepping back to allow her inside. “Though you could answer why the Dark Rangers suddenly want to talk to me.”</p><p>"Well for a while the lot of us were asking why you suddenly wanted to be here," Cyndia shrugged as she leaned against the far wall. "The jury is still out on that one. Perhaps we can trade? An answer for an answer?"</p><p>“Um… sure?” Anevay said groggily. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. “I was summoned for the Gilneas invasion. And it sounded a lot better than hanging myself in my apartment back in Silvermoon.”</p><p>Cyndia blinked. "Oh, shit. Really?" Her rather casual air vanished in the wake of Anevay's words. "...We heard that the situation back home wasn't great for you, but… we didn't think it was <em> that </em> bad."</p><p>“Yeah it was weird. Like, Silvermoon was celebrating my defeat of the Lich King, but seeing no problem with just letting me rot away,” Anevay yawned again, feeling her mind start to clear up as she slowly woke up properly. “I’m not even sure if they’ve noticed I left. They didn’t notice when I didn’t come out of my apartment for a month straight.”</p><p>"...Yikes," Cyndia winced slightly. As outrageous as it seemed, she remembered how Silvermoon citizens behaved too well to believe that Anevay was lying. "Well… if it's any consolation… you likely aren't the only one here to attempt suicide after the Northrend campaign."</p><p>“Really? Who else?” Anevay asked, raising an eyebrow at Cyndia.</p><p>The Dark Ranger looked around, her senses reaching out to search for any means of detection with which the Dark Lady might overhear them. She found none, but that alone did not mean they weren't being watched. A calculated risk then </p><p>"Well, you didn't hear it from me," she began, speaking softly. "But there was a time where the Dark Lady was absent for some time. No one knew where she ran off to. Then one day, she returned with the Val'kyr from Northrend and has since been caught talking about something called the 'Endless Dark'. We suspect that Lady Sylvanas went to Northrend to take her own life… and did not like what was on the other side."</p><p>Anevay’s blood went cold when she heard that. She sat forward and covered her mouth with her hand, seemingly lost for words. Anevay had seen and heard a lot of distressing things in the past, but nothing distressed her more than the suggestion that Sylvanas had tried to kill herself.</p><p>“<em> Anar’alah… </em>” she whispered. “Is… is she going to be okay?”</p><p>"Well whatever happened in Northrend, it's certainly changed her," Cyndia said quietly. So quietly that it strained Anevay's ears to heed her. "She has been more concerned about our people's survival than ever before. Good for all of us, but it is worrying in regards to her."</p><p>Anevay sat back and stared at the floor. Having to deal with crippling suicidal thoughts was something she was very familiar with. But the idea of knowing that only suffering awaited you on the other side sounded like a horrible combination to have to live with. “What kind of twisted, evil cosmos does something like that?”</p><p>"You got me," Cyndia shrugged. "I've come to loathe any notion of a higher power since the Fall of Silvermoon. Whatever God would allow that to happen deserves to perish."</p><p>The risen elf looked at the despondent look on Anevay's face, her ears wilting at the sight. "I… am afraid I ruined the mood I was hoping to set tonight. My apologies."</p><p>Anevay’s eyes snapped up to Cyndia, now confused. “What? Mood? What mood?”</p><p>Cyndia averted her gaze, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. "Well… Kalira told us what happened. In the ruins. I was curious, so… I came here."</p><p>Anevay looked even more confused, before her eyes widened in realization. “Oh…” she said. “Oh yeah, sure. C’mere,” she beckoned her to come within arms reach.</p><p>Cyndia blinked with surprise. "...Really?" In truth, she wasn't expecting such a ready agreement. She had assumed it would require a little buttering up, if Anevay didn't just refuse her outright.</p><p>“Yeah sure,” Anevay nodded. As Cyndia slid her chair closer, Anevay reached out and cupped the Dark Ranger’s cheek.</p><p>With but a moment to brace herself, the gentle contact shot through her with its intensity. No blade or bullet could make her feel anything this acutely. When Anevay tenderly ran her thumb over Cyndias sharp cheekbone, she was certain her soul would eject her animated corpse. </p><p>"<em> ...Holy shit, </em>" she said breathlessly, her eyes blown wide.</p><p>“Yeah, Kalira said the same thing,” Anevay chuckled as she withdrew her hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s the fel crystals. I was talking to some of the warlocks about it and they said it was the most likely culprit.”</p><p>Cyndia had to stop herself from reaching out and pulling the hand back to her face. "...Uh… yeah. That makes sense," she mumbled out, her mind an utter mess of jumbled thoughts and barely suppressed urges.</p><p>“You going to be okay?” Anevay asked, tilting her head curiously at Cyndia. Kalira had seemed comforted and soothed when Anevay hugged her. Cyndia on the other hand seemed... aroused. The manner in which her ears were positioned leaned hard into that possibility.</p><p>"Uh… yeah. Yeah I'm fine," Cyndia said, looking away. Admittedly, she was currently torn between asking, nay, <em> begging </em> for more, and being fairly certain that anything more might actually kill her with overload. Alas, she thought better than to voice such things aloud.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m starting to get the feeling I shouldn’t indulge that curiosity with anyone else,” Anevay nodded as she put her hands in her lap. “Seems like it could leave people compromised. And… well I’d rather it not be common knowledge. I’m actually making connections here, I don’t want people to start viewing me as a heat lamp." </p><p>"Oh! Y-Yeah, I understand," Cyndia stammered, rising from her seat. "S-Sorry. I'll… I'll go now."</p><p>“You don’t have to-” Anevay stopped when she remembered Cyndia saying she was trying to set a mood. This was literally the only reason she came to see her. “Oh… okay I get it,” she nodded, trying not to look dejected.</p><p>Cyndia blinked. "...Get what?"</p><p>“You just came here to see if this was true,” Anevay said, getting up and moving to the desk, her back to Cyndia. “It’s fine. I get it.”</p><p>Cyndia felt something else just then. Another feeling she wasn't accustomed to feeling before her death, which made it hit like cannonball. </p><p>Guilt. </p><p>"...Sorry," she whispered, surprising herself with how readily she conceded. "I came here without thinking. I didn't even stop to consider that you were sleeping." She was quiet for a moment longer as she sought after something else to say. "...Do you wanna just… talk?"</p><p>“I don’t want you to stick around out of guilt, Cyndia,” Anevay said, pulling a few scraps of parchment out of the desk. </p><p>Cyndia winced, Anevay's words causing that uncomfortable churn in her long empty stomach to worsen. "...Okay," she whispered, turning for the door.</p><p>As she heard the door close, Anevay sighed. This made it clear to her that she shouldn’t let this information get around. If it did, she was likely to be accosted by people trying to touch her wherever she went. If Kalira and Cyndia’s reactions were of any indication, her heat was an extremely overpowering sensation to them. </p><p>The last thing she wanted was for a good thing to be ruined like this. She only hoped the Dark Rangers wouldn’t spread it around too much.</p>
<hr/><p>Anevay’s armor ended up being confiscated by Parnell under Sylvanas’ orders, though the exact reason was never explained to her. In the interim she was given a temporary set of armor crafted from simple iron.</p><p>It wasn’t great. Iron wasn’t a particularly good metal on it’s own. Steel was the standard, Thorium for higher ranked guards. Iron was a lot less durable and would wear out and break a lot easier than anything else. And it was prone to rust. Still, the assertion it was temporary gave Anevay the hope that she wouldn’t be stuck with it for long.</p><p>Nevertheless, she wore it when the Forsaken marched through Silverpine to deal with another liberation attempt by the Gilneans. An assault that had ended when Sylvanas kidnapped Lorna Crowley and ransomed her off in exchange for a full retreat by the Gilneans. With a simple threat, Sylvanas stood at the Greymane Wall with Anevay, Cromush, and the risen Lord Godfrey in victory.</p><p>“SOLDIERS OF THE HORDE! WE ARE VICTORIOUS!” Sylvanas bellowed, her voice carrying across the entire forest.</p><p>Anevay, who had previously not been paying much attention once Crowley retreated, suddenly saw something out of the corner of her eye. Godfrey was moving behind Sylvanas, holding a pistol up to the back of her head. Panicking, Anevay moved to intercept him, but she was a second too late as she grabbed his arm just after he pulled the trigger.</p><p>Sylvanas’ victory speech was cut off completely as she slumped forward and slid off her horse, collapsing onto the ground. She’d been killed instantly.</p><p>Cromush whirled around to see Godfrey smirking and holding the pistol, while Anevay had grabbed onto his arm. She was staring at Sylvanas’ corpse with a mixture of horror and grief. It didn’t take him long to deduce who was responsible.</p><p>“What have you done, Godfrey?!” he bellowed, advancing on him and drawing his axe.</p><p>"Apologies, <em> monster, </em>" Godfrey huffed, managing to wrench his arm free in the wake of Anevay's despair. "But Gilneans belongs to one king, and only one. And when I cleanse Lordaeron of your filth, it will belong to me as well!"</p><p>Anevay snapped out of the trance she was in and turned a murderous glare toward Godfrey. “You’re going to pay for that,” she snarled, drawing her warblade.</p><p>"I beg to differ," Godfrey said haughtily as his two companions emerged from behind him, ready to do battle. "For the true Gilneans!" He drew his pistol again, aiming for Anevay whilst the others called upon unholy magics to hurl at the orc.</p><p>Anevay, who was still within arms reach of Godfrey, pushed the gun away from her and immediately stepped in to ram her warblade through the treacherous Forsaken’s chest as Cromush charged at Ashbury and Walden. Anevay twisted her blade and pulled it harshly to the side, completely cutting through half of Godfrey’s torso. The risen man was unbalanced with half his rib cage shattered and stumbled back in a desperate attempt to remain on his feet.</p><p>Thick black ichor poured from his mouth, soaking the mask that concealed his face. His undead coil, which had felt bereft of pain of any kind was suddenly burning with agony. The pain made him all the more aware of the parts of him that were suddenly dropping off as the necromantic powers holding him together began to wane. </p><p>"...Y-You stubborn bitch," he cursed.</p><p>“That’s me,” Anevay nodded, swinging her warblade inward and slicing through Godfrey’s neck, his head spinning to the ground and bouncing away down the small slope. </p><p>Cromush had similarly dispatched Ashbury and Walden. Once Anevay was certain there was no more danger, she practically sprinted to where Sylvanas lay in the dirt, skidding to her knees beside her. She turned her over onto her back and saw that she was well and truly dead.</p><p>Glancing up at the Val’kyr she asked “You can raise her again, can’t you?”</p><p>Arthura looked down at Sylvanas' lifeless body. "...Yes. But it will destroy us to do it."</p><p>"We took an oath, Sister," Daschla said, her voice rich with conviction and resolution. "We must honor it.”</p><p>Arthura sighed and reluctantly nodded. “Then let it be done.”</p><p>The three Val’kyr channeled necromantic magic into Sylvanas’ body. It was more intense than when they raised other Forsaken. Anevay could feel the warmth being sapped out of the air around her and she looked up to see the Val’kyr growing weaker. Was it really taking them all of their energy to raise Sylvanas? Why?</p><p>Eventually the Val’kyr stopped channeling and fell to the dirt. Then Sylvanas stirred.</p><p>The Banshee Queen slowly rose to her hands and knees. The platinum blonde hair poured from her ruined hood and frapped over her face, covering her mortified expression. </p><p>"I saw… only Darkness," she whispered so quietly that only Anevay had any chance of hearing her. It was twice now that she had felt her soul being thrown into that horrible place. But then a light broke through the shadow. Then another. Then another. </p><p>She looked about her to see the unmoving, luminescent bodies around her as they appeared to dissolve right before her very eyes. "...my dear Val'kyr…"</p><p>"Dark Lady?"</p><p>Sylvanas' ears quivered, the voice behind her sending a surge of alarm shooting through her newly risen body. She whipped her head around to see Anevay standing before her. The Banshee Queen lurched to her feet, drawing the sabre at her side and scowled at the blood elf with all the venom she could muster. </p><p>
  <b> <em>"You!"</em> </b>
</p><p>Anevay startled and leapt to her feet, taking a few steps away from Sylvanas the moment she yelled. Her chest tightened as she realized that the Dark Lady was glaring at her. “Me? What about me?!”</p><p>"A sneak attack!?" Sylvanas demanded with a sneer, not lowering her sabre. "A bullet to the head!? I expected better of you, Darkflare!"</p><p>“What?!” Anevay balked, stepping back further. “No! No, it wasn’t me, Dark Lady! It was Godfrey!” she gestured to the three mangled Forsaken corpses.</p><p>Sylvanas, still on her guard, shifted her sight to look at the ruined bodies that laid before her. One of them was Godfrey's, with a pistol in hand. She bristled, a sliver of confusion and doubt cutting through the certainty and rage she thought impregnable not a moment ago. </p><p>Her eyes turned to Cromush, issuing a silent command with her gaze alone. Explain. </p><p>"It's true, Dark Lady," he nodded, his own expression too frantic to harbor any deceit. "Godfrey was the one to kill you. Darkflare tried to stop him. I saw it myself."</p><p>Crimson eyes widened as Sylvanas became utterly speechless. In the momentary hell that was the Endless Dark, she was convinced that the bullet that sent her there came from Darkflare. The woman she had suspected of treason for months now. Instead, it was Godfrey. The newly raised Forsaken she gave less than a modicum of thought toward.</p><p>A Forsaken had betrayed her. A living person had tried to intervene. </p><p>“I see…” she said quietly.</p><p>Anevay, who had actually kept a hand on her warblade in case Sylvanas took a swing at her, slowly let go of it. “So… you’re not going to kill me?”</p><p>"...No," Sylvanas said, lowering her sabre. "No I'm not." </p><p>She took a step forward and very nearly crashed back into the dirt as pain overtook her. Her jaw clenched, hissing a curse as she fought to keep herself upright.</p><p>Anevay acted on instinct and rushed forward, supporting Sylvanas by the shoulder and keeping her from falling. “Whoa! Easy. You’ve just been shot in the head, don’t overexert yourself.”</p><p>Sylvanas said nothing. She simply looked at Anevay for a moment. Her expression was hard to decipher, bearing an odd mix of confusion and clarity. "...All this time, I was expecting betrayal from the living," she whispered, partially to Anevay but mostly to herself. </p><p>"And in the end… the betrayal was from one of my own."</p><p>“I’m sorry, Dark Lady,” Anevay winced. She’d certainly understood why the Forsaken had been suspicious of her when she first arrived, and had suspected that Sylvanas was having her watched for potential treason. The undead only inherently trusted each other. And now even that trust was broken. </p><p>Sylvanas' face shifted again. What she was feeling exactly, Anevay couldn't tell. Oddly enough it appeared to be something resembling awe. </p><p>"I… I must return to the Undercity," she rasped out. "I need to recuperate… and think."</p><p>“Do you need help getting there?” Anevay asked, still supporting Sylvanas’ weight as the Banshee Queen leaned against her shoulder.</p><p>"If you expect me to request that you carry me all the way back for all to gawk at my time of weakness, no," Sylvanas harrumphed, nonetheless leaning against Anevay. "Just get me a mount."</p><p>Anevay nodded and put her fingers to her mouth, whistling sharply. Within a few seconds, Skash’ka came running over the hill. To anyone else, the massive wolf speeding toward them would have been downright terrifying. To Anevay, it was a welcome sight. Skash’ka slowed to a stop in front of them and whimpered as she looked between Anevay and Sylvanas.</p><p>“Down, girl,” Anevay commanded.</p><p>Skash’ka laid down on her stomach as Anevay guided Sylvanas closer to her.</p><p>“Here, Skash’ka can keep a wounded person secure better than anyone,” she said.</p><p>Sylvanas struggled her way into the warg's saddle. She was vaguely aware of Anevay securing her feet into the stirrups. She would have considered such an indignance to be worth a scolding at the very least, but lacked the strength for it. </p><p>Her eyes wandered to Cromush, who appeared almost mesmerized by the sight before him. "And what are you gawking at?" She demanded.</p><p>Cromush blinked. "Oh! Nothing Dark Lady! It's just…" he fell silent for a beat. "...a warg mount suits you rather well."</p><p>Sylvanas scoffed. "Not a word of this to Hellscream."</p><p>She tapped the warg with her heels, but Skash’ka didn’t move. She did it again, but the warg remained laying on her stomach.</p><p>“Alright, what did you train her to respond to?” Sylvanas sighed.</p><p>Anevay moved to Skash’ka’s head and ruffled her fur. The warg stood up and growled softly. “Take her to the Undercity, sweetie. Gently now,” Anevay cooed, kissing the top of the wolf’s head.</p><p>Skash’ka nudged Anevay with her nose before taking off in a slow trot.</p><p>Cromush arched a brow as they watched the Dark Lady depart upon Skash'ka. "She responds to tenderness?"</p><p>“She responds to <em> me </em>,” Anevay corrected her. “But yes, she’s accustomed to tenderness because that’s all I treat her with. She’s a very well behaved wolf. And for a while the only companion I really had. I got her from the Mag’har on Outland as a gift.”</p><p>"Hmm…" Cromush crossed his arms and regarded Anevay with a quizzical look. "You're an odd one, Darkflare."</p><p>“Skash’ka was the point you realized that?” Anevay huffed. “I would have thought me telling her to be gentle with Sylvanas would have made it clear I’m a sentimental little bitch.”</p><p>Cromush shrugged before he turned to collect his axe from where he stuck it in the dirt. "In any case, Gilneas is won, but there is still work to do. Scouts report Alliance movement in Alterac. We'll need to wrap things up here and move quickly."</p><p>“Understood,” Anevay nodded as she led the skeletal horse Sylvanas had left by the reins back to the base. She couldn’t help but spare a glance in the direction where Skash’ka had disappeared, though.</p>
<hr/><p>The Dark Rangers were insufferable gossips. They had been in life and that hadn’t abated in death. Within just a few hours, every high-ranking officer had heard about the brazen display of sentiment Anevay had shown to Sylvanas after she was revived. </p><p>Anevay had learned that gossip in the Undercity was less salacious than gossip in Quel’thalas. It reminded her of old novels, with the Forsaken essentially crafting stories from whole cloth to tell eachother about other people in the city. For the most part they seemed to know it was all a bunch of nonsense, but delighted in them regardless.</p><p>Anevay’s personal favorite was the rather exorbitant dramatic rumor about Sylvanas’ close kinship with Nathanos. That had given her a few good laughs, not least of which being the fact that she knew if either of them heard the details they would be unable to so much as look at each other for the next week. Silvermoon had far nastier versions of those rumors, not portraying it in anything close to the enjoyable light the Forsaken did, and the two of them had been irritated by them back then as well.</p><p>Anevay knew for a fact that there had never been anything between Sylvanas and Nathanos. The two were as close as two friends could be, but Sylvanas had never seen fit to change that.</p><p>Of course as time went on and Anevay continued to show her dedication to Sylvanas and the Forsaken more and more, she became the subject of those same stories as well. She had to admit though, it was more engaging than any romance novel she’d read before.</p><p>Anevay’s stock armor was already showing cracks. She was still waiting to get her own armor back from Parnell. He’d refused to surrender it, claiming it was an order from the Dark Lady, but Anevay had a hard time believing him anymore. Any attempt to ask Sylvanas about it only met her with circular answers.</p><p>“This is ridiculous,” Anevay scoffed. “Parnell confiscates my gear, claims the Dark Lady ordered it, and then Sylvanas won’t confirm such a thing. What does the man want with my equipment so badly anyway?”</p><p>“Good question,” Clea mused absently, her attention fixed on the sabre she was sharpening. “Wish I could say I had an answer for you.”</p><p>“An answer is all I really want,” Anevay flopped down onto a bench. “Raw Iron isn’t good for heavy combat. It never has been. My old set didn’t fit right, but at least it was solid steel.”</p><p>“Maybe he scrapped your armor for material,” Clea shrugged, her attention still rapt on the blade. “Times are tough since the shattering or whatever they’re calling it.”</p><p>“On the Dark Lady’s orders?” Anevay raised an eyebrow. “If that were the case, why the secrecy. It’s not like I could object if it were true. I swear I’m just a few clicks from walking into the throne room and demanding an explanation.”</p><p>“Well I think the only question you’d get answered that way is how to aggravate the Dark Lady,” Clea warned. “Plus, I doubt she’s being this discreet just to fuck with you. If she has a reason, we will find out in due time. Until then, just try to make the iron work, yeah?”</p><p>“Guess so. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made a scene to a Horde leader,” Anevay shrugged as she laid down on the bench. Just as she did, however, the door opened and an unmistakable voice hit Anevay’s ears.</p><p>“Darkflare. Come with me,” Sylvanas said from the doorway. “I have something for you.”</p><p>Anevay stood to attention swiftly and nodded. “Y-Yes! Right away, my Queen!” She followed Sylvanas through the door, closing it behind her and leaving Clea alone with her sabre. </p><p>“Heh, that didn’t take very long,” the Dark Ranger chuckled.</p><p>As Sylvanas led her out of the Trade Quarter, she turned a raised eyebrow to Anevay. “What was that you just called me?”</p><p>Anevay blinked, not understanding the question right away. “What I… Oh! Um, ‘My Queen’? Your pardon, Dark Lady. It’s just… well everyone around here says it. So I… I suppose I got into the habit of it.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Sylvanas said, keeping her eyes forward. “In future you will take note that it is only my Forsaken who refer to me as such. I am not your Queen, and so you should not address me as such unless I decide to keep you.”</p><p>There was a pause, and then Sylvanas stopped as she reconsidered her words.</p><p>“That is… keep you here,” she amended.</p><p>“You heard the gossip floating around too huh?” Anevay asked sheepishly.</p><p>“Indeed I did,” Sylvanas said with a scowl.</p><p>“My apologies, Dark Lady. I hadn’t thought something so innocuous would be so talked about.”</p><p>“Be sure that you consider your actions more carefully from here on out,” Sylvanas said firmly. “To anyone you speak with. A careless word can cost one more than you’d think.”</p><p>“I will do that, Dark Lady,” Anevay nodded. “For the record, I said nothing to anyone. These rumors did not start with me.” </p><p>“I believe you,” Sylvanas nodded as they continued down the twisting corridor to the Royal Quarter. “Still, we must always be cautious. This campaign is far from over and we must all remain vigilant for the trials to come.” </p><p>She pressed a single hand upon the join of twin doors and swung them open with a simple push. “It is for that reason that I have something to give you.”</p><p>Anevay followed Sylvanas into the Throne Room with a puzzled look on her face. Sylvanas led her to a chamber off from the Throne where there was a crate sat in the middle. Looking around she noticed a few tables with wrist-straps attached to it. Was this chamber used for interrogation? She’d never seen it before.</p><p>“Okay?” she said with uncertainty.</p><p>Sylvanas stood beside the large crate and gestured to it. “Open it,” she commanded.</p><p>Anevay approached the crate and lifted the lid. Almost as soon as the light of the torches overhead shined onto the contents, she gasped and covered her mouth. Inside was a pristine set of armor, intricately crafted in purple and grey colors. Even just through appearance she could tell it had to have been expensive. Lifting a pauldron out, she turned it over in her hands. The metal was smooth, but had a rough texture from the paint that had been meticulously applied. </p><p>“Dark Lady…” she whispered. “Is this… is this for real?”</p><p>A satisfied smile spread across Sylvanas’ dark lips. “It is,” she nodded, clapping Anevay on the shoulder. “Consider this a gift long overdue for all of your faithful service. A warrior so renowned by the Forsaken deserves to wear our colors.”</p><p>Anevay stared at the pauldron she was holding, a look of shock on her face. Her eyes glistened with tears and her brain was running a mile a minute. This was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. Looking on the inside she saw the stamp that told her it was a Saronite and Titansteel alloy. This wasn’t just expensive, it had to have cost a small fortune.She couldn’t even wring a proper set of Thorium armor out of the Horde, and now Sylvanas had just sprung something like this on her out of the blue.</p><p>“I don’t… I don’t understand…” she whispered, looking at Sylvanas. “Why go to all this expense just for me?” </p><p>Sylvanas had been anticipating such a question. In all of Anevay’s time in Lordaeron, the Banshee Queen had become very much aware that this blood elf was unaccustomed to receiving acts of kindness. No matter how respectfully she treated others, the thought of those very people respecting her and kind seemed to elude her comprehension. All the time spent watching Darkflare closely prepared her for this question. </p><p>...Or rather it would have if she had a clue how to answer it. </p><p>In all the time Sylvanas had to prepare, she couldn’t think of a reasonable answer to the question she knew was coming. In truth, she did go to great lengths just for this one warrior. And even with how dutifully she served the Forsaken, this armor cost more than some towns to make. To say it was extravagant would be an understatement. And all for a single warrior? What possessed her to commit to such a thing?</p><p>...Perhaps it was a question she would find an answer to at this very moment? The moment of truth?</p><p>“...Because, Champion, your time here in Lordaeron has made a single truth clear to me,” Sylvanas began to explain. “A truth I wasn’t quite ready to accept for the longest time, feeling that doing so alone was a great risk to myself. Alas, in the end it became impossible to deny.” She lifted a hand and placed it on Anevay’s shoulder. Crimson eyes locked with emerald as she was about to breath the next three words into reality. </p><p>“...I trust you,” she said in little more than a whisper. “And right now, trust is the rarest resource at my disposal.”</p><p>“...Really? And that led to… all of this?” she turned and glanced back at the crate. “Is… is trust really in that short of supply?”</p><p>“Yes. But of course, there are other factors,” Sylvanas nodded. “The fact of the matter is that you should never have been fighting in recycled armor in the first place. That sort of negligence could have gotten you killed. Thrall should have properly equipped you. Garrosh should have done the same. Lor’themar should have handled this before either of them. As a leader of the Horde, it falls to me to correct their mistakes.”</p><p>Anevay felt a tightness in her chest at Sylvanas’ words. She’d written off her lack of response regarding her equipment as exactly what she had been told they were. Resource issues, time issues, money issues. Hearing the word ‘negligence’ spoken aloud was sobering.</p><p>“Dark Lady, I… I don’t have the words to-”</p><p>“You owe me no words,” Sylvanas said matter of factly. “All I ask is that you wear this armor proudly, and know that wherever your path leads, the Dark Lady watches over you.”</p><p>Anevay covered her mouth with her hand as the tears started to slip down her cheeks. Between this and the fact that she had started to bond with the Forsaken in a way she was simply unable to back home, her time in Lordaeron had given her the improvement her psylospher had insisted would take years to get back home. She was given a firm reminder of why she’d been so close to her sister rangers in the first place.</p><p>And she didn’t want to leave.</p><p>Wiping her eyes, she tried desperately to compose herself before turning to face Sylvanas again. “Dark Lady? There’s something I had been meaning to speak with you about.”</p><p>“Oh?” Sylvanas asked, her expression neutral and guarded. She was expecting tears. She was expecting blubbering words of thanks. She was expecting a vow that she would treasure this armor always. She anticipated this, not for the sake of her own ego, but because she genuinely understood Anevay to act as such. </p><p>But what she ended up saying seemed uncomfortably ominous coming from her. Sylvanas felt old instincts begin to take root, bracing herself for something potentially dreadful. </p><p>“What would that be?”</p><p>“No doubt the plan for after the Forsaken took Gilneas was for me to return to Quel’thalas and await another summons from the Horde,” Anevay said quietly. “Am I right?”</p><p>Sylvanas nodded. “Indeed.”</p><p>“Well… I want to stay in Lordaeron. Indefinitely,” Anevay said. She steeled herself for a potential refusal. An assertion that Sylvanas’ newfound trust in her did not extend that far. “I want to fight under the Forsaken’s banner. Under yours. I want the Undercity to be my home.”</p><p>Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction, surprise cracking through her guarded mask. Whatever she was expecting to hear from Darkflare, that certainly wasn’t it. “...Are you certain?” She wasn’t sure why she asked such a question. The smart thing to do would be to swiftly grant Anevay’s request and keep this valuable asset in her corner. And yet, some part of her needed to know that the warrior was certain about this choice.</p><p>“Yes, I’m certain,” Anevay nodded. “I… I have nowhere else to go and… and I like it here. The Forsaken are pleasant to be around, and I’ve grown quite fond of them. I know I’m asking a lot. I know it goes against everything the Forsaken believe, but I would very much like to stay.”</p><p>Sylvanas was silent for a moment as she considered all the possible consequences this would entail. Lor’themar would likely be in a state about it. Garrosh might frame this as another step out of line and do more to annex to Forsaken more than he already has. The Alliance might devote more resources to taking back Lordaeron knowing it was guarded by the woman who slayed the Lich King. </p><p>There were several potential drawbacks to this choice… and yet having Anevay serves, not simply as a champion… but <em> her </em> champion… it made it all seem worth it. </p><p>She lifted a hand and gestured for Anevay to kneel, which she did swiftly.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>“Anevay Darkflare,” she began, crossing her arms as she looked at the blood elf with a piercing gaze. “Do you, from this day forward, swear to devote yourself to the people of the Forsaken? Do you swear to defend our sovereign kingdom of Lordaeron with all your might? Do you swear to serve me until your dying breath and beyond?”</p><p>“Yes. I will defend Lordaeron with my life. I will devote myself to the Forsaken, and I swear to serve you until death takes me, and for every moment afterward,” Anevay said quietly. “...My Queen.”</p><p>A dark smile grew upon Sylvanas’ face. “Then arise, Champion Darkflare. Stand tall and proud as a defender of Lordaeron. As you serve the Forsaken, the Forsaken shall serve you.”</p><p>Anevay stood up, her eyes still red from crying but looking nonetheless grateful. “Thank you, Dark Lady. You have no idea how much this means to me.”</p><p>“You will have plenty of opportunities to express your gratitude, Darkflare,” Sylvanas assured her. “In the meantime, you may want to take this armor to your quarters.”</p><p>Anevay nodded and took the crate, wheeling it toward the exit. </p><p>“And Darkflare?”</p><p>Anevay stopped and turned around. “Yes?”</p><p>“It’s good to see you too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Epilogue - Quel'Thalas Doesn't Need Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anevay’s new armor fit perfectly. How Sylvanas had taken her measurements for this project she would never know (and was quite certain she would sleep better at night if she never found out) but she had been spot on as the plates didn’t jostle around her like her previous set had. It was snug, easy to carry, and everything about it just felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She had gone out of her way to acquire a Forsaken tabard to wear over the plate, throwing the Horde and Thalassian tabards into a drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, she felt good. She felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she rode into Orgrimmar a few months after swearing her allegiance to the Forsaken, Anevay was hit with a cold reminder of just how abruptly she had left Quel’thalas when she ran into Lor’themar, who stared at her as if she was a ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Darkflare?” he raised an eyebrow. “Where have you been? You’ve been missing for months now. Nobody’s been able to figure out where you vanished to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay pursed her lips as she got off her Garn. “Really? You didn’t think to check right next door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next door? Darkflare, I had all of Quel’Thalas scoured looking for you!” Lor’themar balked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant Lordaeron, genius,” Anevay clarified with a roll of her eyes. “Lady Sylvanas summoned me to help her push into Southern Lordaeron and I answered the call. That’s where I’ve been.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar blinked, thrown slightly by how simply and matter of factly Anevay explained her absence to him. “...And you didn’t think to say anything!?” he pressed incredulously. “You decided to just leave unannounced and leave us to devote resources trying to find you!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You scoured Quel’thalas, yet didn’t think to send a raven to the other cities asking if I’d been reassigned?” Anevay folded her arms and leaned back against Skash’ka’s side. “I mean, not to make myself sound predictable Regent Lord, but if I were looking for me then an Orgrimmar Tavern and wherever Lady Windrunner currently is would be the first places I’d look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar let out an exasperated groan. “Your smart mouth isn’t doing you any favors, Darkflare,” he huffed. “Now, I can only assume you’ve arrived here in Orgrimmar because your... assignment in Lordaeron has been complete?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually I’m here to deliver a report on the capture of Gilneas,” Anevay explained. “My assignment </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>complete, but Sylvanas offered me a position as one of her champions. So I now reside in Lordaeron indefinitely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Regent Lord’s mismatched eyes went with shock. Silence passed between them for a beat. Then another. Then it got very loud. “...You what!?” he exclaimed, making no effort to hide his outrage. “You aren’t even Forsaken!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay raised an eyebrow, perplexed at the Regent Lord’s anger. “Wouldn’t it be up to Sylvanas who is and is not Forsaken, Regent Lord? She’s the one who named them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean, Darkflare!” Lor’themar snapped. “Sylvanas leads the undead people that ally with the Horde. You. Are. Not. Undead!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. I’m. Stationed. In. Lordaeron. Anyway!” Anevay snapped right back. “Last I checked, there were no laws on where Horde citizens could choose to reside or what banner to fight under. I mean Hellscream may have passed something since I was last here, but as far as I know there isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar felt a painful throbbing form behind his eyes. “Darkflare…” he began, fighting to keep his tone even. “Why in Belore’s name would you choose to reside among the Forsaken as opposed to with your own people? The Undercity isn’t even suitable for the living.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay looked at him as if he had two heads. “...Regent Lord, didn’t you receive the bills for the psylosopher I’d been seeing for two months since returning from Northrend? You should already know enough information to make an educated guess. Because if you haven’t been getting the bills and military reports, then I’m curious as to who has been actually paying the man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see why such an expense would cause you to abandon your home!” Lor’themar protested. “I understand how harsh the Northred campaign was for you, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t because of Northrend that I kept seeing him,” Anevay huffed, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar blinked, her matter of factly tone throwing him off. “...Then what were you seeing him for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay hesitated. She wondered whether or not it was worth it to even tell him. She’d never had good support from Lor’themar before, despite supposedly being honored in Sunfury Spire. She was certain she would just be seen as a child moping in her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she was also certain Lordaeron wasn’t an option to escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I was terminally lonely. I couldn’t form connections with anyone because they were too absorbed with the mythic idea of me,” Anevay explained. “And I tried. I really did. For months I tried. The psylosopher was no help, just telling me to wait. It got so bad that…” she choked up, finding it increasingly distressing to think about how close to the edge she’d gotten. “...I almost hung myself in my apartment, Regent Lord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Anevay kept going, Lor’themar’s expression contorted in confusion before widening in shock. “...Wait… so you nearly committed suicide because… because the citizens of Silvermoon were just a little star struck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little starstruck? It went beyond a little, Regent Lord. Look, I’ve been alone for a long time. Since the Fall. But until recently I at least had thinking about revenge to occupy me,” Anevay rolled her eyes at the dismissal Lor’themar had given her. She was already feeling pessimistic. “It wasn’t just the fact that I couldn’t make new connections. I was holed up in my apartment for over a month and nobody thought to check on me. The fact that you didn’t know about my suicide attempt means that you didn’t even think to check my apartment. You would think checking on the only person to come back alive from the Frozen Throne would have been a priority.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t yell, she didn’t get vicious. She was just too tired of thinking about Quel’Thalas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar groaned with exasperation, though his weariness paled in comparison to her own. Not that he would ever understand that. “Darkflare, so help me,” he began, furiously rubbing at his eyes. “If you’re telling me that you caused a national incident with your absence all for the sake of </span>
  <em>
    <span>attention</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I am going to be livid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t. Nathanos came in and shot me down,” Anevay frowned. “He told me Sylvanas needed my help with the invasion of Gilneas. So I left for Lordaeron with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where you then decided to stay without informing anyone,” Lor’themar finished through clenched teeth. “Because the Forsaken somehow treat you better than your own kin who treat you like a Queen? The people whose motto is ‘Beware the Living’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be treated like a Queen, Regent Lord. Look at yourself right now. I’m telling you that I was unhappy. That I was lonely. That I was suicidal. And you’re standing there scoffing at me,” Anevay said, looking equal parts hurt and exhausted. “You think I moved to Lordaeron just for the drama? You think I’m lying about getting along with the Forsaken? Who would do that?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well either that or Sylvanas has bewitched you,” Lor’themar huffed, crossing his arms. “Either way, she should know better. Rest assured I am certainly going to be having a word with her about this. You, meanwhile, are going to report to my magisters as soon as your business is done here so that they can see what matter of madness is going on in your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t answer to you anymore, Regent Lord,” Anevay frowned, pulling Skash’ka by the reins and making her sit by the stables. She never had to tie her down. Skash’ka listened, and would only disobey when kids came by to pet her. “If you don’t want to take this seriously, then I can’t force you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darkflare, do you have any idea what kind of damage this can do for Sin’dorei morale?” Lor’themar balked. “We’ve already endured so much loss in such a short amount of time and now you would deprive them of their Champion because they aren’t appreciating you the way you want them to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay huffed and wheeled around to face him. “Lor’themar, would you rather I was dead?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would rather you cease with your damned melodrama!” Lor’themar countered harshly. “Ever since Sylvanas took you under her wing all those years ago, you have been the epitome of difficult, and you’ve only gotten worse with time! Hell, the only commander you haven’t been difficult with is Sylvanas herself.” His eyes widened slightly as a thought crossed his mind. “Wait… you’re only in Lordaeron because she’s there, aren’t you? Everything else is just an excuse!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it really so hard to believe that I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> unhappy?” Anevay asked quietly, her voice cracking. She’d gone past exhausted and now she was just hurt that the Regent Lord seemed to be doing everything but just admit he’d mishandled her situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only possible reason you have to be unhappy is that things aren’t exactly like they were before the Fall,” Lor’themar exacerbated. “Darkflare, our people are in a position where they can move on from the tragedy that befell us all. It seems as though you’re the one who is intent on being stuck in the past. For Belore’s sake, you haven't even attuned yourself to the Sunwell yet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lor’themar, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Darkflare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay turned to see a Forsaken woman approaching her. From the look of her, she had arrived on the same boat and the two had gone separate ways at the dock. She was looking at Anevay with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying,” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay reached up and touched her eye, feeling her lashes wet with tears. “Oh… it’s nothing big, just dwelling on things. Thank you though,” she smiled at the woman. “I appreciate the concern.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar watched the two women exchange pleasantries, much to his growing confusion. Anevay conversed with the Forsaken woman a moment longer, several kind words being shared between the both of them before they departed once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What the hell was that about?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? She was just being nice,” Anevay explained. “I told you, the Forsaken people are kind to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a way that the Sin’dorei are not?” he asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cried on a date in Silvermoon, and the girl got weirded out and left,” Anevay frowned. “I was very visibly depressed when people would come up and squeal about me, only to recoil when they saw I was miserable. Kind of like what you’re doing right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar opened his mouth. Then closed it. As much as it felt wrong to concede when Anevay had a point, it was becoming increasingly difficult to deduce that she didn’t. “So… you truly get along better with the Forsaken?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay nodded. “They respect me as their avenger, but they still respect me as a person. Probably because I’ve always given the same respect to them. I can just sit down with some Deathstalkers and just… I dunno, mingle. This armor I’m wearing? This was a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar turned his attention to Anevay’s armor, which he hadn’t actively noticed due to her cloak. As he looked more closely however, he could see that not only was it expertly made, but made from a very fine material. This wasn’t just ordinary steel. It wasn’t even Thorium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Belore, is that Arcanite?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he continued to inspect the alloy of the pauldrons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saronite and Titansteel, actually,” Anevay said with a small smile. “I cried when it was given to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Lor’themar’s eyes widened any farther, it was likely they’d fall out of his skull. “Sylvanas gave you a saronite armor set as a gift!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Partially a gift. When she found out my armor was recycled and most of it didn’t fit right, she had it confiscated. Said that it should have been replaced years ago after she gave me this,” Anevay explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lor’themar bit back a curse. On one hand, he honestly wouldn’t put it past Sylvanas to gift Anevay with a ridiculously high quality set of armor purely to make the other Horde leaders look bad. Spite was one of her greatest motivators. On the other hand however, it was hard to argue with that logic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he never gave it much active thought, it was true that Anevay’s armor set was always… patchwork to say the least. The statue they placed near Sunfury spire portrayed her wearing Silvermoon armor, even though she was never seen in such a set on the battlefield. With how capable a warrior she proved to be, giving her a proper set was never something he thought about doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I see,” he said finally, the crease deepening between his brow. Less of frustration, however, and more with proper contemplation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look… Quel’thalas has the Sunwell back. The Lich King is dead. There’s a new age ahead of it where the Sin’dorei can rebuild and return to their former glory,” Anevay said quietly. “Quel’thalas doesn’t need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Lordaeron does?” he asked, seemingly unable to help himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No. No they don’t,” Anevay shook her head. The admission that Lordaeron didn’t need her was less of a sting than she thought it would be. “If I wasn’t there, they would be getting along fine. If I hadn’t answered Sylvanas’ summons, she would have taken Gilneas without me. I’m not needed there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you prefer it there,” Lor’themar clarified, crossing his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, I do,” Anevay nodded. “I like it there. I’m happy there. Happier than I ever was in Silvermoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was some time before Lor’themar said anything in response. His own expression appeared pensive to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Alright,” he said finally. “I believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anevay let out a sigh of relief as she wiped her eyes on her cloak. “Thank you, Regent Lord. I appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” he nodded. “Of course, if Quel’Thalas finds itself in a state, I’m certainly going to expect your support. However, as it stands, if you prefer life in Lordaeron… you have my understanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Regent Lord,” Anevay nodded. “I’ve lost no love for Quel’Thalas. I just can’t live there anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she turned away and toward Grommash Hold. It was time to deliver these reports before Hellscream came out screaming his head off at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then go home.</span>
</p>
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